Pack Challenge
by xsphinxslady
Summary: Massively A/U: Victor and Logan never split up after Three Mile Island and Logan never met young Rogue. What happens when the three of them cross paths at a cage fight?
1. Chapter 1

**Pack Challenge**

_Disclaimer:__ X-Men and its characters are property of Marvel/Fox_

_Author's Note: And here we have my latest incarnation of an Alternate Universe Rogue fanfiction. This time we're once again going with a multipairing only we're sticking with the X-Men universe because I don't think there are enough good Rogue/Sabertooth fics out there and the scenes with Victor that I wrote for Skin Deep really got to me. So this is a Rogue/Victor/Logan AU. As usual I've taken a lot of license with the movie Rogue to make her more like the one from the comics and Victor is Origins Victor not X1's Sabertooth. Rogue never met up with Logan in X1 and Logan and Victor reconciled after Origins so that should give you an idea about some of the major differences I'm playing with. Rogue also does have her Carol Danvers powers instead of the Phoenix's unlike my other fanfics because I'm not sure if I want to get into crazy-Jean or not._

_Onto the plot bunnies!_

_Skin Deep _only has about 10 or so chapters left, yay!

**Chapter One**

Victor watched from his dark corner of the bar, drinking his beer and keeping one eye on the door and the unruly crowd, as Jimmy whaled away on his newest challenger to the runt's title of King of the Cage.

After what he nearly did in 'Nam and then the massacre in Africa, Victor never thought the two of them would ever get back to being brothers. He did too damned good a job beatin' a moral code into Jimmy when they were kids for the runt to overlook his slips. Guess that's one thing he could thank that bitch Kayla for: if it wasn't for her screwing Jimmy over, he probably would've had to wait another decade at least before Jimmy found some way to forgive him. Taking out Deadpool and then Stryker for good measure turned out to be one hell of a bonding experience for the two of them.

The cage fighting was Jimmy's idea. A way for the two of them to let their inner animals out to play without winding up fighting another godforsaken war or in a cell. Killin', fightin', and fuckin' are the only things the two of them are really good at.

And it turned out cage fightin' is damned profitable.

They worked it out so that they take turns every night on who gets in the cage. They would just alternate matches but eventually they would wind up against each other for the King of the Cage title and fights between the two of them tend to level bars. Something they found out the hard way.

Once and a while one of the mutant groups from down in the States comes callin' for the two of them. Either Lensherr or Xavier always having some new spiel to sell them, tryin' to enlist them to fight the good fight. They always go away disappointed and empty-handed.

Him and Jimmy are done fightin' other men's wars. Long as that shit don't spill over into Canada, they'll keep their damned noses out of it.

A savage roundhouse from Jimmy had blood flyin' and his opponent k-o'd. Jimmy just went back to sippin' on his Scotch and puffin' on his damned cigar. If Victor hadn't been watchin' him for any signs of trouble – sometimes the Wolverine can get too riled up to be safe even in a no-holds-barred cage – he never would've caught it.

Jimmy's head turned towards the door a fraction of an inch and Victor spotted his nostrils flair just the slightest amount as he tried to get a better read on whatever scent caught his attention. Victor saw a faint hint of gold shine for a moment in Jimmy's eye before he put down the drink and cigar and faced his newest challenger, one of the last of the night based on Victor's assessment of the crowd.

Turning towards the door, Victor tried to figure out what it was that caught his baby brother's attention so thoroughly. Inhaling deeply he caught the scent even though he was too far away with too much smoke in the fucking air for him to get a good look at her. And it was definitely a her.

Her scent made his inner Sabertooth sit up and purr. All sweet spice and heat with undertones of tart apples, sweat, and leather. Yum, yum, yum.

Victor and his inner animal wanted nothing more than to spend days rolling around in that scent. Hopefully he could find her before Jimmy got out of the Cage. Of the two of them, the runt definitely had a much better shot with women. Most found Victor just too damned big and dangerous, even after his twenty year hiatus from killin' for a livin'.

All he needs to do is figure out who that scent belonged to.

The clock was ticking and Jimmy was making fast work of the idiot in the ring.

oOoOoOo

Rogue sauntered into Jack's, one of the few bars owned by such a blatantly anti-mutant human on the fighting circuit that she still frequents. Mainly because in this part of the Yukon there's not enough fighters for them to give a damn _what_ they are as long as the person stepping into the ring as the entry fee and is willing to bleed. Which makes it perfect for her to blow off some steam between missions for the X-Men.

Fortunately for her, with the burn and shrapnel scars from when Scott blasted her off of Magneto's machine and the white streaks cause by said machine, Rogue looks more like a merc than a mutant.

Unfortunately for her, with a massive power-up courtesy of one of Mag's bitches named Carol Danvers, Rogue can't really let loose the way she used to be able to. Not unless she wants to get outed as a mutie freak due to her now super-human strength.

Honestly if it wasn't for the scars she would have to stick to the bars where mutant cage fights have become a massive draw. As it is she makes sure she keeps to the human fights. You never know when a mutant stepping into the ring with you is one that you've helped send to prison.

Being one of the good guys is a major drag sometimes.

Waving to Dan – the announcer for the fights – that she was going to get a drink first before stepping into the ring, Rogue made her way over to talk to Jack who was as usual manning the bar.

"How ya been, girlie?" Jack grunted rather than actually spoke. Rogue is pretty sure he's not capable of normal speech after spending so much of his life sucking down cigars and getting his head kicked in a cage. Both Jack and Dan used to be fighters before buying out the previous owner of the bar some years ago.

"Same shit, different continent." She shrugged and rolled her bright green eyes as he chuckled before sliding her beer. "Hold onta my pack?"

Rogue was already handing the beat up Army duffle across the bar before the formality of asking was even over with. The two of them have been through this enough times in the six years since Rogue discovered cage fighting at the ripe age of twenty for it to be nothing more than a courtesy for her to ask anymore. Nodding in thanks as he slid it under the bar, she turned and hooked one heel around the rung of the barstool she was perched on. She was nearly bursting out of her skin in anticipation. After doing another round of undercover work for the Professor she was in dire need of a good heart-pounding and adrenaline-rushing fight.

"Not much of a field tonight." Jack told her as she locked her eyes on the man with his back to her in the cage. The current King. "You're probably gonna hafta go up against a guy if'n you really wanna fight tonight."

Nodding in acknowledgement, she studied the broad muscled back facing her. Impossibly wide shoulders topping a solid mass of muscle that tapered down to a defined V at his narrow hips. Ripped arms and big hands, a tight ass and long legs. Bare feet. Nothing but a dingy pair of old sweatpants and the chain of necklace that she can't quite see from the back. Rogue took a long pull from her cold beer, trying to cool off the sudden heat wave that came over her at the sight.

"Maybe not." She said, flashing her eyes at Jack with a wicked grin. "If he's who I have to go up to I might be up for a round of a different kind tonight."

"Yeah, right." Jack outright laughed. The Rogue has never taken a guy back to whatever rat-hole hotel she stayed at. Not once in six years. Most of the time she spends more time putting guys with grabby hands in headlocks than anyone who's gone up against her in the ring.

"Nah." A rough voice interrupted their conversation as the fight in the ring got down-right brutal, giving Rogue a glimpse of washboard abs, a chiseled chest, dog-tags, and a handsome face under scruff. Still can't see his eyes though. Shame. "Jimmy won't fight a woman."

Turning her head as she spread her arms against the bar to prop herself up, Rogue found the voice's owner. Arching a brow she gave a mental wolf-whistle. She doesn't know where these two came from but they differently weren't locals. She would've remembered them from her other visits over the years.

This one had gold – _gold _for godssakes – eyes paired with a face just as handsome only a little rougher than the fighter's. His hair was shaggier than the other man's clean cut black, falling forward a little into those unlikely eyes. And he was massive. He wasn't showing skin the way the fighter was but Rogue's spent enough time in fights to know serious strength when it's sizing her up. And Mr. Pretty Eyes was definitely sizing her up.

"Hey, Jack." She tossed an arch look over her shoulder at the eavesdropping owner. "What merc crew did you import these two from? You bringing in ringers now?"

Jack just snorted. "Same merc crew I found you on to pretty up the place."

Laughing she flipped him the bird, appreciating that he was comfortable enough around her scars to joke about it with her.

"Doesn't matter one way or the other to me whether he'll step into the ring with me." She answered Pretty Eyes. "Someone will. Probably all the jackasses he's already beat down tonight if for no other reason than to try and regain some pride. All I'm here for is a fight. One will do just as well as another."

Victor felt his jeans get uncomfortably tight at the response from the lush female, barely restraining a growl. Not a damn thing frail about this one. All lean muscle and attitude covered in that dick-hardening scent. No wonder Jimmy spotted her before she even sat down.

"Hey darlin'," Logan gave the woman with the scent a feral smirk. One that's been flipping skirts and dropping panties for as long as he can remember. Leaning next to her, keeping her sandwiched between himself and Victor, he picked up the glass of Scotch the bartender had waiting and took a sip.

"Hey." Was all she said as she got the signal from Dan. "Love to stay and chat, but that's my que." She stripped off her top and pants, revealing a tiny pair of boyshorts and nothing but tightly wound bandages keeping her chest covered. Tossing the clothes at Jack she sauntered over the cage, well aware of the two pairs of eyes watching her every step.

Inside the cage she took off her shoes and socks, preferring bare feet over the weight of her boots. Dan introduced her shouting for someone to take on "The Rogue" as she stood still with her arms crossed, looking bored.

"Sweet Jesus." Logan breathed as he watched that lush ass walk away. The owner of the scent he'd picked up early, she had the brightest green eyes he's ever seen. Paired with white-striped chestnut hair and lightly tanned skin that had a ribboning of nasty scars across her right side, including on arching across her right eyebrow and cheekbone. He could only guess at the curves she kept bound under those tight bandages and athletic tape but the rest of her was prime, lush female with a lean strength under the curves.

"You said it Jimmy." Victor and Logan took a long pull of each of their drinks in unison as they watched her walk over to the ring and get ready. "Rogue." He said under his breath for Jimmy's ears only.

Logan nodded whispering back too low for anyone but Victor. "You wanna shot first?"

Victor studied her carefully. "I'm thinkin' about steppin' into the ring with her. Really she what she's made of."

"Up to you, brother." Logan motioned for another drink from the hovering bartender, raising his voice to be heard over the announcer. "What's her story?" He asked Jack as she started to move around the lug that took her challenge first.

"Dunno." Jack shrugged, filling up the glass with Scotch. "Just wandered in one day lookin' for a fight. Runs with no outfit I've ever seen or heard tell of. Just a pretty boy that comes and gets her sometimes. Doesn't matter where she is one the circuit he always finds her and off they go. Comes back meaner and rougher every time before coolin' off in the ring. Damned woman I ever saw."

"You thinkin' merc?" Logan asked Victor as they watched her moves in the ring. "Those aren't standard street fightin' moves or even normal military."

"Savate." Victor said as she snapped out a particularly vicious kick that k-o'd her opponent. "French kickboxing for sure."

They were silent as she fought another round, studying her moves with part male-fascination for a fine female, an Alpha female to their males, and part professional detachment. They spent over a hundred years bein' killers. They know what one looks like when she's kickin' ass right in front of them.

"Krav Maga." Logan spotted another discipline.

"Aikido." Victor laughed, seeing one of Jimmy's moves being used by the little female. "And some traditional karate."

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Logan asked lowly, gold-hazel eyes locked on Rogue the whole time.

"Killer," Victor nodded his head answering just as quietly. "But for who though? Never heard-a the Rogue in our circles."

Logan thought for a long moment as the third shmuck stepped into the ring with her, the Rogue was barely winded after two fights although she had a sexy-as-hell sheen of sweat slicking her body and the damnedest little smirk on her face.

"Maybe she's not." Logan and Victor locked eyes for a moment. "She might be with Wheels or Mags."

Victor just grunted. That would make sense with the beating she keeps taking and shaking off. Not to mention the beatings she keeps dealing out. It's all very controlled. She's been extremely careful to seem rattled at times, to make a show out of it. But him and his little brother know better. They could see her smile just a little when she pretends to take a hard hit. They saw the look in her stunning eyes just before she lands the final blow. Like she knows it's going to take the guy out, not one doubt in her mind.

The only question is, what kind of powers does she have?

"That's gonna be her last one of the night." Jack commented, coming up behind the brothers that gave him the willies. There was just something about the two of them that throws him off. They're too damned quiet. Saw too damned much. "Unless one of you are gonna step into the ring with her?"

Victor shot Jimmy a grin as he shed his upper layers and left them with his brother. He was in jeans instead of sweats which would be annoying, but he can get rid of the boots in the ring, same as Rogue. Time to see what Stripes was made of.

Time to see if she could handle Sabertooth.

oOoOoOo

Rogue smiled as she watched Pretty Eyes walk over to the ring and talk to Dan before entering the cage. She enjoyed the massive slabs of muscle covering his fine form, now revealed by his utter lack of shirt. Mmm. He sure was a yummy one, just like his dark-haired friend he called Jimmy.

Her smile turned into a pure naughty-grin as he bent over to take off his boots, giving her a damned nice view of a tight ass in denim for her pure lascivious pleasure. Another fine hunk of man, right before her very eyes.

Too bad she was going to fuck him up.

They never want to take her home after she fucks them up. But how else is she supposed to know if they can handle her? If they can really take on the Rogue? Which would be the main reason she was still a damn virgin at twenty-fucking-six. She doesn't want to sleep with someone she's afraid she might break.

A strange thing for a woman to be worried about sure, but not that odd when you're a mutant.

Rogue matched the blond – Sabertooth as he was introduced – smirk for smirk as the announcer backed away.

Then all that filled her consciousness was the ring of the bell and the little snarl Sabertooth gave as he lunged for her.

oOoOoOo

"Wow, darlin'," Logan laughed as he hefted his brother up, helping him off the floor of the ring as the crowd cleared out. "You pack one helluva punch."

Victor just hissed at the runt's amusement as he walked – albeit with help – back over to the bar to get some ice for the ringing in his ears. His healing factor his damn good but not quite on par with Jimmy's. Hence the migraine from a powerful high-kick to the head after a blood-pumping fight.

"So I've been told." She laughed along with them after redressing and moving to the bar to gather her pack – and the purse from her fights. Counting it out she handed Jack his usual cut – ten percent – for holding onto her stuff and to cover her drinks. Tonight his cut came to $200 after four $500 purses. Not a bad take for one night's work.

"LAST CALL!" Jack shouted as he pocketed the tip from one of his favorite fighters.

"Hey!" A drunk and beat-to-shit roughneck moved over to stand weaving in front of Rogue and the two brothers, three or four lackeys in tow. "I know what you are." He slurred pointing vaguely at the small group.

"Oh yeah?" Victor drawled, eyeing the drunk asshole that was looking to take his third beating of the night after getting knocked around by Rogue and the Wolverine.

"Not you." Drunken asshole spat. "Her." He pointed shakily at Rogue. "The mutie bitch."

Rogue cursed under her breath. It was bound to happen sooner or later. At least there weren't many people left in the bar and she was on good enough terms with Jack and Dan that she was reasonably sure she wasn't going to take a hit from behind.

"Mutie bitch?" She asked, arching a brow as she slung her bag over her shoulder, tonight's winning safely stowed away. "You sure about that, honey?"

"No one can get in four fights in a row and not have a scratch on 'em." Drunken asshole continued. "You barely even broke a sweat except with the big motherfucker."

Victor growled low at the insult, straightening on his seat as Jimmy shot him a warning glance. The runt probably wanted to see if Stripes could get outta this on her own or not.

Pointing to her scars she rolled her eyes. "Clearly you're wrong." She said patronizingly. "I can definitely be a little more than scratched. Maybe y'all just can't handle me. Wouldn't be the first time a buncha rednecks were outta their depths with me."

"Cool it, Randy." Jack ordered the drunken asshole. "Rogue's a merc. And I don't wanna be scrapin' pieces of you offa my bar."

"Merc." Randy the drunken asshole snorted as his lackeys seemed to deflate at the owner's words. "She ain't no merc."

Before he could finish his sentence Rogue had a knife pressed up against his adam's apple and was watching his friends scatter like roaches. Once Randy-the-drunken-asshole was safely alone she moved backwards, taking in his fear in all its glory.

Green eyes ice cold she watched him like a bug she had pinned to a display board as she dug the knife in a little farther.

"You're right, Randy." She said like she was commenting on the weather. "I'm no merc. I'm an ice-cold killer. I came here to let off a little steam and here you come ruinin' my night. Why don't we call it even before I feel like gettin' mean?"

Shoving him away she watched as he skittered out the door after his little friends.

Jack heaved a sigh as Dan came over holding a shot gun in one hand.

"It's not gonna go away now, Rogue." He warned her. "Now that one's thought it, it's gonna keep happenin'. I know you're a good kid but it's not gonna end well if you keep on the circuit."

"I know." She said softly, cracking her neck as she put the knife away and faced her audience – including the still vigilant brothers.

"He's plannin' on doin' somethin' stupid, Stripes." Victor said, watching her with his uncanny eyes. "Guys like that don't take well to gettin' their asses handed to 'em by women. Especially women with curves like yours."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know." She laughed as she moved towards the door, the brothers shadowing her.

Looking back over her shoulder she shot them a look.

"Y'all plannin' on stalkin' me?"

"More protectin' ya." Logan admitted, rubbing one hand against the back of her neck. "Just until you get wherever you're goin' for the night."

"Speak for yourself Jimmy." Victor grinned at her. "I plan on talkin' my way into her room and not leavin' until both of us are exhausted."

Watching the door open before she could reach it, Rogue heaved a sigh at who walked through it.

"Sorry boys." She said – and meant it. "But my babysitter found me again."

"Rogue." Scott shot her a chastising look.

"Hey it's One-Eye." Victor laughed. "Guess we know who Stripes works for now don't we, Jimmy?"

Logan gave a rough chuckle as Cyclopes gave them a scathing glare through his red sunglasses. The Boy Scout hates them and flat-out can't stand that Xavier keeps tryin' to recruit them.

"You know him?" Rogue cocked her head, giving them a more thorough examination with her eyes. Mutant powers would explain the gold and gold-tinged eyes the brothers share. And the inhuman strength that the big one hits with. If she wasn't damn-near unbreakable she'd have several crushed bones from taking hits from the meat hooks he calls fists.

"Wheels keeps tryin' to recruit us." Logan answered her, giving her a wicked smirk. At least now they know where to find her again.

She laughed and shook her head, waving goodbye.

"There's a place in Yellowknife that has fights for us." Victor called out after her. "You should stop by after your job."

A nod was all the confirmation they got.

"Yellowknife?" Logan arched a brow at his older brother.

"That is a woman worth keepin', Jimmy." Victor grinned. "The closer to our place we can get her, the better."

Logan rolled his eyes. "You can't just kidnap her Vic."

"Wasn't plannin' on it." He shrugged. "Besides, who said I was thinkin' about _just_ her an' me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Pack Challenge**

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

**Chapter Two**

Rogue sauntered into the dive situated in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada, one month to the day from when she ran into who she now knows as Victor Creed and Logan Howlett aka Sabertooth and Wolverine. Two of the toughest mutants ever born according to Dr. McCoy and two of the meanest according to Scott. Which did nothing but tickle her curiosity, prompting to do a little more digging in between jobs for the Professor.

She found out a few interesting things. Like that they're half-brothers and no one quite knows how old they are. Or that together they co-own a multimillion dollar financial business out of New York City called Creed Enterprises. That they've refused offers to work for and/or with both the Professor and Magneto as well as S.H.I.E.L.D. and the U.S. government, proud Canadians to the core, made her laugh when she found _that_ tidbit out from the uber-spy himself Professor Xavier.

But where she really hit pay-dirt was in the files she stole from Major Jeremy Stryker when she busted herself as well as Scott and the Professor out of the Major's little house-of-horrors underneath the Rockie Mountains. Rogue being the only mutant besides Gambit that Jason Stryker's mind-manipulation and illusions doesn't work on. No one can hack her head. No one. Not even the Professor.

As it turned out the brothers who looked all of their mid-thirties are at least in their eighties, having been recruited by the Major's uncle, the late Colonel William Stryker, to be operatives for the secret military initiative Team X. Logan was later classified as "Project X" and had adamantium grafted into his entire skeleton, a procedure he survived only because he has uncharted regenerative powers. Which explained his aging extremely well. The only other notation about either brother was noting that "Project X" had gone AWOL and had yet to be recovered.

The Major theorized that Creed and Project X teamed up to tear apart Three Mile Island and kill his uncle.

Having met the brothers, Rogue thought that theory had a great deal of merit. They were as dangerous as anyone she's ever met.

Although why that turns her on instead of sending her running in the other direction, she has no fucking clue.

She should be a thousand miles away from Yellowknife instead of walking into this bar.

Maybe if fate is kind to her, the brothers won't be here. She'll just get her fight over and take off, no harm no foul.

Fuck.

She's no Remy LeBeau, she's never had that kinda luck.

Because if she's not mistaken…that is Sabertooth himself playin' King of the Cage. Which meant…

"Hey darlin'." A smoky voice whispered next to her ear.

oOoOoOo

Logan couldn't believe it when he saw the lush figure of Rogue saunter in through the doors of the bar. Him and Victor have been comin' and sittin' and fightin' in here for the last three weeks, hoping that she would walk that sexy ass of hers on in and take them up on their invitation. They were almost ready to give up on it and head to Westchester to see Wheels when there she was, lookin' lean and mean, likely fresh off-a assignment.

They had made the most of the weeks since meeting her though. Turned out that if you knew which people to ask, there was quite a bit of information about the Rogue floating around. A lotta it was repeated over and over. She was infamous but still relatively unknown.

A runaway, kidnapped by Porn-Star Smurf for Mags for use in the Liberty Island Incident, something they heard about all the way up in bumfuck Canada. Blasted outta Mag's machine by Ol' One Eye which is how she wound up with the striped hair and the scars. Went to work for Wheels as an X-Man with her "poison" skin.

She seemed to touch Vic easily enough without him dyin'.

Got kidnapped again this time by Stryker's asshole nephew. Managed to rescue herself _as well as_ Wheels and One Eye which just solidified her rep as someone with which not-to-fuck.

And there hasn't been much noise about her since. She pops up every now and again in skirmishes between the Brotherhood and the X-Men but what she does the rest of the time, or where she came from before Mags got his hands on her, no one seemed know. Except for when she drained Ms. Marvel dry during one-a Mag's attacks on the X-Mansion, she's gotten good at stayin' the hell outta the major battles.

No one seemed to really know much of anything about her.

Something he could appreciate and only makes him wanna peel back her layers until he can find out what makes her tick. God knows the mystery surrounding her tickles at that feline-curiosity of Victor's.

Moving up behind her as she paused just inside the door, head cocked to one side and her wild mane of striped hair falling over her shoulder as she studied Vic as he pummeled his latest victim, Logan leaned in close to her, his mouth nearly touching her ear.

"Hey darlin'," he said, teasing her hair with his breath. "I was startin' to think we scared you off."

oOoOoOo

Turning she found him too close for her peace of mind, placing one palm on his flannel-covered chest to keep him from invading her space anymore. Nothing she's heard about either brother suggested they respected things like personal space. In fact that wild look in Wolverine's gold-flecked hazel eyes said that he wanted nothing more than to, ah, _violate_ her personal space over and over again until they're both exhausted puddles of sweaty, satiated flesh.

"I don't scare that easy." She said with a sassy smirk, taking in the long legs and sculpted chest under the flannel and denim. "I was just otherwise occupied for a while."

"Hmm," Logan smirked seeing her eyes running up and down his body. She was a little more ragged around the edges than the last time, probably headed here straight from getting debriefed. Her hair was wind tossed and wild while she'd covered that prime body of hers in a brown leather bomber jacket over a bright green top that cupped a pair of lush breasts – bigger than he'd thought after seein' 'em all taped down last time, more'n a handful for sure – and sleek brown leather motorcycle pants and boots that showed off every lovely curve of her ass and legs.

Yeah, she was one hundred percent prime all right.

And she was here for him and Vic.

"Buy ya a drink darlin'?" He asked when he spotted Vic gettin' ready to finish of the idiot in the ring with him. Who, besides Logan himself, sees a man like Vic in a ring and gets in there with him? Willingly at that. Pure stupidity.

Gaining her assent, Logan wrapped one arm around her shoulder, ignoring the pack she had slung around herself, and escorted her over to the table in a dark corner of the room that gave them an excellent view while keeping them mostly out of sight. Rogue took the pissy look from the waitress who took Logan's order for another round of drinks plus her beer in stride. Everything she's read and heard about the brothers pointed to them being a pair of manwhores.

The only problem she sees is that she's no one's casual hook-up or one night stand. She came to sate her curiosity about them, not turn into another notch on their collective bedposts. Seeing the heated look in Logan's eyes, eyes that are turning more golden by the minute, she gave a little shiver. For the first time in dealing with a man, any man, she felt out of her depths.

Catching the look on Victor's face as he walked over to them with his shirt slung over one shoulder and wiping blood off of his knuckles she corrected herself.

What she felt like was prey.

A lonely little fawn cut away from its Mama by a pair of apex alpha males.

Rogue restrained the urge to shiver once more, taking a long drink of the beer the waitress thunked petulantly down in front of her instead, eyes locked on the two brothers as they watched her with that feral look in their eyes.

Yep, it's huntin' season for those two alright.

And it's lookin' more and more like her virginity is the prey.

oOoOoOo

Victor gave Rogue a feral grin as he slid into the booth, keeping his back firmly against the wall, and faced the seated little bit of trouble that was once again sandwiched between himself and his brother. Only this time with no easy way out, outside-a usin' her powers anyway. Her skin sounded kinda fun to him.

Like it'd be the rush of a lifetime.

Then again, no one's ever accused Victor Creed of bein' all that sane.

"Hey Stripes," he brushed a hand down her hair and shooting Jimmy a smug look all at the same time. "The runt was startin' to think you were gonna stand us up?"

"Stand y'all up?" Rogue arched a sarcastic brow. "We'd have to have made plans for that, don't ya think?"

The brothers just laughed, the reaction she was looking for with her teasing. Good. They do have senses of humor. She'd hoped so after hearing their nicknames for Scott and the Professor. Spending time around other killers usually went a lot smoother when everybody knows how to take a joke. Less blood spilled that way.


End file.
